14
The chair turned around slowly.
What is it with men of power and drama?
I wasn’t wrong about the voice.
The white, waxed, handlebar moustache was the same. But his iron-grey hair had a little less iron and more ivory in it. And he’d grown it out since his last appearance on CorpNet half a dozen years or so ago. It hung long and braided behind his back, defying military protocol and mostly male convention. His eyes hadn’t changed, though. Still steely and unblinking. Combined with the even line of his lips, he more resembled a bust of himself than the actual man. He was creepy.
That hadn’t changed either. But I thought forced retirement seemed to agree with him.
“I assume you recognize me.”
Oh, good. Another cult of personality. I never tire of stumbling around in those minefields
